2099
by Italian Nightmares
Summary: The year is 2099 and it's the golden age for equality. No one is stronger, prettier, quicker or smarter then anyone else. Everyone is the same. Based on Harrison Bergeron, a short story. FrUk, America x China and some sad shiz. Please R&R! I want to improve :)
1. Part I

A/N: Hetalia is not mine and neither is the story I based this called Harrison Bergron. It is really, really good and pretty much the same as this lol. I just wrote this to try to improve my writing a bit. Hope you all like it!

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It was the year 2099, the golden age year for equality thanks to the 299th Amendment. No one was smarter, stronger, quicker or prettier then anyone else. This was of course, all thanks to the International Handicapper General.

Jowever, some things weren't right especially six years ago on that too-cold day and in that too-cold month. The H-G men stormed into Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonefoy's house that month and took their adoptive son Alfred, not even thirteen years old, away.

It was tragic and sad, Arthur still had nightmares of H-G men, but him and his husband, Francis, couldn't think very hard of it. Francis had a perfect average intelligence and couldn't think of anything unless in short bursts. Arthur however, had an above average intelligence, and thus had to have a radio attached to his ear at all times to monitor his thoughts and making sure he didn't take advantage of his intelligence. Every thirty seconds, the radio would produce a loud noise to make sure of this.

The two were watching television. Francis was crying, but he couldn't remember what about. "Suck it up, wanker."  
Francis pouted. "You're so mean to me, mon cher. We should enjoy the dance, oui?" He sat on the large sofa from across his husband and motioned at the TV. "The dance. It's so beautiful..." Ballerinas were prancing on stage with masks and white tutus. All of them were wearing weights.

Arthur just sighed. "Yes, yes, I suppose they are." _It's not like their better then anyone else. _The ballerina's faces were masked so no one would feel bad to see a pretty face. The sand bags hung on their shoulder's heavily, preventing them from doing graceful leaps. They were doing mostly little, clumsy hops then anything else.  
Arthur cringed and five of the ballerinas on the TV fell, losing their balance. One of them looked like she was hissing.

"What was the sound this time?" Not being handicapped, Francis always wondered.  
"It sounded like a boy screaming." Tears welled up around his eyes then he winced again. "Now it sounded like a football smashing a window. Christ..."

"Francis smiled, a little bit envious. "Mon dieu, I think it would be interesting to hear all of the different sounds."

Arthur snorted and shifted in the puffy chair. "You're mad."

"Maybe." Francis sighed dreamily. "Only if I was the Handicapper General, I would make the sounds more beautiful. Maybe like chimes, or maybe a bird chirping."

"I could think if it was only birds you git."

"I would just have to make them loud then. I think I would make a good Handicapper General."

"As good as anyone else."

"Who knows better than I do what normal is?"

Arthur sighed. "No one then you, love." The British man began to think grimly about his adoptive son who was now rotting in jail, about sweet, little Alfie, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that. The sound was so startling, he started to shake and tears started to well at his eyes.

"Mon Dieu, that was a loud one. I could hear it from here! Didn't sound very pleasant. Like a gunshot." Two more ballerinas collapsed on the dance floor, holding their temples as the others danced around them obliviously.

Francis pitifully smiled at his husband and got up. "You look tired, mon cher." He got up and planted a kiss on his husband's head. "Why don't you stretch on the sofa to rest your heavy weight bags?" Arthur sighed. Huge canvas bags were hung and strapped around his neck, waist and arms, weighing about 20 pounds each.

"I really don't mind it. They're a part of me now."

"But you look so tired all the time!" The Frenchman complained. "What if I make a little hole and let a few led balls out? Just a few?"

Arthur scoffed. "Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out," said Arthur. "I don't call that much of a bargain, love."  
"But-"  
"If I tried to get away with it, then other people would get away with it. Pretty soon we'd be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn't like that, would you?"

Francis pouted. "I'd hate it."

"Well there you go. What do you think would happen if everyone was causing a ruckus all the time and breaking laws."

Francis had to think for a moment. "I think society would all fall apart." Arthur shrugged.

The television program flickered and was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It really wasn't clear what the announcer was trying to say at all for all announcers have serious speech impediments. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say something, anything, but the shy little blond gave up and handed his paper to a nearby ballerina.

The ballerina, ad Arthur realized, must have been a young man but he had a very small girlish figure. He also must have been beautiful as the mask he wore was hideous, like some sort of dragon.

"That's alright." Francis cooed at the television "He tried his best. Mon Dieu he was cute." Arthur rolled his eyes. Arthur also noticed the ballerina had more weights then any other. Only 200 pound men wore those weights. The ballerina cleared his throat.

"I apologize for my voice, as I don't want to offend anyone, aru."  
He had a soft, beautiful accent that sounded Chinese. Arthur smiled. It was refreshing. "Um, Alfred F. Jones, most commonly known and Alfred Kirkland Bonefoy, now age 19, aru, have escaped jail. He was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, aru, is under-handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous, aru." He winced and tried to resist touching the radio attached to his ear.

A police photograph of Alfred flashed on screen-upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then finally the right side up. The picture showed the full length of Alfred as he leaned against measurements and holding up a sign. He was 6 feet and five inches tall.

The rest of Alfred was like something out of a nightmare. Nobody had ever had heavier handicaps then the boy. He had outgrown hindrances faster then the H-G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and huge spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him giant headaches instead.

Metal was also hung all over him like some sort of make-shit human Christmas tree. Alfred carried more then 350 pounds.

And to offset his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a he would have to wear a very ugly mask, not ittimidating, but shaped more like just a plain white.

"If you see this boy," said the ballerina, "Do not try to reason with him, aru." The man squeaked and dropped the paper and squeezed his temples.

Behind the ballerina, there was a shriek and the backstage door creaked, and fell of the hinges.

Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The picture of the boy on the screen jumped as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.

Arthur's eyes widened. "T-That's our boy! Alfred!" Francis bit his lip as Arthur cringed, the sound in his ear so loud, his eyes started to blur and he closed them. When he opened them, the picture was replaced by a living breathing Alfred on screen.

In the center of the studio, the man stood like some sort of huge, clownish devil. Or maybe and angel. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.

"Listen up, everyone! No turn off the television monitor! No one runs, everyone stays here!" He stamped his foot and the whole room shook. "My name is Alfred Fucking Jones! They thought they weakened me, but look of what I have become!" He roared. "They tortured me and done terrible experiments! You are all masked! We do not live in the golden age as you all think!"

Alfred tore the straps of his humongous harness like wet paper and the tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.

Alfred's odd scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor like broken ornaments.

Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his metal head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall. He threw of his mask and glasses revealing a rather handsome face.

"Now, I need a partner. First one who stands and claims their throne." For a moment, everyone stayed quiet but a ballerina rise from his feet, the one with the dragon mask. He stood and ripped the weights from his neck and swayed towards Alfred like a willow. Alfred smiled and ripped the radio from his ear and the ugly dragon mask reveling a breathtakingly beautiful, porcelain face. The man got an elastic from his writs and put his hair in a low side ponytail.

"Now" said Alfred, taking his hand gently, "Shall we show the people the true meaning of the word dance? Music!" he commanded.

The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Jones stripped them of their handicaps, too. "Play your best," he commanded them. "I want everyone to see."

The music began. It was normal at first-cheap, silly, false. But Alfred growled at them, and they stopped. He shifted his eyes to see a brunette staring back at him at a piano. "You. You just play."

The music began again and was much improved.

The two shifted their weights to their toes and everyone watched quietly, listening to the beautiful music that seemed to come so easily at the man's finger tips.

Alfred placed his big hands on the other's tiny waist, letting his partner's sense the weightlessness that would soon be his.

And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, they sprang.

Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well. Everyone watched in awe now, not in fear. The Chinese man was smooth as a dragon and twirled with his partner. The other was a Hero.

They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.

They leaped like rabbits on the Moon.

The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it. The Chinese man grinned happily and laughed along with Alfred and the crowd.

And then, Alfred picked him up effortlessly again and they kissed with joy and freedom. The camera kept rolling, but no one really noticed. Everyone in the world was watching now. Watching the dance and listening to the enchanting music.

It was then that, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. He himself was an odd looking man with his faded pink scarf. He stormed in with hundreds of H-G men behind him, weights weighing tgem down and also armed with gun. They stood there for a moment and watched the two dance. They dropped their guns, but the General did not. He fired twice, and the Hero and Dragon-man collapsed to the floor like used dolls.

The General loaded the gun again. He aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on. No one else spoke.

It was then that the couple's television tube flickered out.

Francis turned to and asked about the blackout. But Arthur had gone out into the kitchen for some scotch he hid in the cabinet.

George came back in with his alcohol, he paused while a handicap signal shook him up again. Then he sat down again. "You been crying, love." he said to his husband.

"Oui."

"What upset you?" he said.

"I forget," he said and started to wipe his tears. "Something real sad and terrible on television."

"What was it?"

"It's all kind of mixed up in my mind. Everything is a blur."

"Forget sad things, sweets." Arthur came up to sit next to Francis and kissed him lightly.

"I always do,"

Arthur smiled, then winced. There was the sound of a rivetting gun in his head.

"Mon Dieu, I could tell that one was a doozy!" said Francis.

"You can say that again," groaned Arthur.

"Mon Dieu, I could tell that one was a doozy!" said Francis.

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A/N: UPDATE: I got a few confused PMs. So, if you know the story I'm basing this story on, it might make a tad more sense. Basically, this is about a utopian society in America in 2099. Since everyone always wants 'equality this, equality that, blah, blah gay rights, blah' (I'm a string supporter for these things btw!) I thought, 'hey, what would happen if everyone was equal and had all of the rights we want?' Well, I stumbled upon this story and wanted to write about it even though it was pretty extreme. So I'm sorry I killed China and America,but there is kind of a message in here if you looked hard enough. It's that being unique is really, really important. Really think about it. If one person can't cure cancer and everyone is the same, who will? Anyways, enough of my rambling and my sad attempt on trying to become a philosopher. I love you all! Do you guys think I should make another chapter for this one?

-Italian Nightmares


	2. Part II

Alfred rubbed his head. Something was attached to it. Another metal head harness. This time it was attached to his jaw preventing him from speaking. His head pounded and his back ached. He tried to look around but soon realized his vision was blocked by those ridiculous glasses. Not that it mattered, he could tell it was pitch black. He tried to take them off only to tug against some ropes. Beside him, he heard a small muffle then a nudge against his back. He was right back where he started. _Dammmit! God damn it all!_

"What would you like to eat dear?" Francis smiled and began to toss in some vegetables into the pan. He never let Arthur cook, not that he was actually better, Francis was forced to put on hand weights when he cooks. "Mon Dieu, too much salt." He sighed. Arthur just grunted.

The H-G men came again and put more led balls into the bags that hung around his neck and his arms. It was _that_ night too. The night that Arthur couldn't remember. Francis told him that when the men came, his ear piece was going crazy. He passed out and the H-G men thought it was defective. It wasn't, so they just left it on.  
"What ever you want, dear. Just like every night." He grunted again as he leaned forward and grabbed the television remote. It was the same thing every night. He flipped through the channels. Badly drawn cartoons dance around in a happy meadow. News announcers stuttering. Actors tripped and pronounced their lines wrong. He stopped at the ballerinas. The music was simple and easy. The ballerinas, however, looked very on edge. He could make out them shuddering and flinching. Even the music sounded shaky. Arthur grimaced.  
"What was that one, cher?" Francis called from the kitchen. "It was pretty loud this time."  
Arthur just sighed again. "It sounded like a tree crashing to the ground." two ballerinas fell to their knees and a violin squeaked.

Alfred pretended to sleep and leaned against a dark wall. It was the one thing he was good at. Over the years, he was able to subdue the the sounds coming from his huge radio by relaxing his mind. It was getting harder and harder though. A figure beside him squeaked. Even with his vision mostly gone, Alfred could tell who it was. _Dammit! They won't break me! _He flinched slightly. In his headphones, a man was screaming in agony. The sounds they come up with. He opened his eyes. Not that it really mattered.

The small, broken, man opened his eyes. Unlike Alfred's his vision was unblocked, but he noticed he had a larger ear-piece and a heavy head harness. The weights around him were excruciating. He couldn't even move his arm. It was as if it was part of the dark floor. He blinked, trying to make out where he was. He noticed Alfred F. Jones and no door. Where was the door? He looked up. The door must have been eight feet above them. With much effort, he moved his head and gave Alfred a horrified look. Questions flew through the dragon-man's head. Where were they? Why didn't the Handicapper General kill them? Does anyone even remember? He cringed and groaned against his odd metal gag. Another sound.  
As if Alfred could actually hear his thoughts, let alone see him, he smiled, ripping his skin a bit, and shrugged. _All in good time._

Arthur continued to watch the ballerinas do clumsy leaps across the studio stage. Francis smiled and sat across his husband and gave him a plate of food. "Want to eat in front of the television again?" Arthur smiled slightly and shrugged.  
"Sure."

"Mon Dieu, the music is so beautiful. How I wish I can play like that." Francis smiled at the television in awe.  
"You can, dear. Anyone can." Arthur quietly ate his salty food (not that he was much better) and his eyes were glued to the ballerinas. Something really did seem off. A loud boom sounded in his ear. "My God, they're going to make me deaf." He sighed as he lost his train of thought.

The ballerina performance was interrupted as it switched to a news announcer. "H-Hello everyone." His face looked familiar for some reason and his voice was dreadfully quiet. "I-I want to call attention to announce that-" He yelped as he was suddenly pulled back from his chair. A silver-haired man replaced him before apologizing.  
"Keep the camera rolling!" There was a crash and the camera shook, but it finally focused on the albino.  
"Listen everyone! My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt! If you are handicapped, I ask you all take off your handicaps now! They can't imprison us all!" He looked back as more shouts were echoing behind him. "Please! For Alfred Kirkland Bonnefoy's sake! For Alfred Jones!" Gilbert picked up a black hat, slipped it on and picked up a gun at his feet. "Come on people, I'm counting on you! Auf Wiedersehen! I will see you all soon enough!" He grinned and the camera flickered as it switched back to the ballerinas. Arthur gritted his teeth as another sound exploded in his ear. He had enough. He tore the radio from his ear and ripped off his handicaps. The plate crashed to the floor as the weight was lifted off of the English man. Francis just smiled. "Oh, the dance! It's back on!"

The ballerina's must have also saw the message as they began to tear their handicaps and started to dance. The musicians did the same and fingers flew over their instruments. It was a beautiful sight and magnificent sound. It was chaos, anarchy and joy leaping across the screen.  
H-G men exploded in the building, their guns aimed. For a moment, everything paused. The Handicapper General was there too, his scarf weaving in the wind. But in that moment, a H-G man stepped from the sea of clear shields and guns. He took off his own helmet, not before cringing first.  
He was a handsome and nervous looking man, no older then 19. He was shaking, but he dropped his weapon with his heavy helmet with a clank. Two more behind him, one about 17 and one very young, maybe 15, did the same and stood next man. Several more did the same and all watched in awe.

The Handicapper General roared as the dance and music drained over him. The brunette man and his brothers each took a hand of ballerina. Arthur smiled. The screen shifted to a news cast.

"P-Please everyone! I received order that you all must remain calm! Keep your handicaps on and-" A brunette man his the announcer in the head with the back of his gun and sat down grinning. They looked oddly familiar, especially to Francis. His attention was glued to the screen along with Arthur's.  
"Hola everyone! Very sorry for the interruption, but there's a rebellion going on! We're having a tough time trying to intercept the signals!" He laughed and thee sliver-haired man smacked him on the head and filled the screen.  
"Thank you, Captain State-The-Obvious. Anyways, you people have to understand! It's impossible for us all to be the same! So what if one person is better looking then another? What about someone who is stronger, more creative, or faster then you? It doesn't matter at all! It's all in a state-of-mind that the General have brainwashed you! We all can be equal in our own ways, we don't need to be bound down! Be different! Be unique!" The screen switched back to the ballerina's and the Handicapper General screaming.

He raised his gun and started to shoot in every which way. The brunette man went down and his partner held him up. More dancers fell. The H-G men held back their leader, trying to prevent the bloodshed.

Arthur just smiled. "I guess society is falling apart. Francis?"

His husband sighed and stood up. "No, not really. We were never really in the Golden Age after all, were we?" Arthur smiled and nodded. There were sirens outside suddenly and Arthur touched his ear to make sure his radio was still out. The door was knocked down and the couple looked at it in alarm.

Alfred as standing, supporting the small dragon mad who still had weights on his ankles. Blood was covering his face and his lips looked like they extended a bit too far, but there he was, police cars parked and men pointing guns at them. Not that it mattered. Most of them were thinking.

"It's been too long, Dad. It's funny. The only way I could see you both is starting some sort of rebellion. I just missed you guys." Arthur couldn't speak. His eyes were filled with tears and embraced his son, ignoring the shouts of the H-G men, Francis crying, the Chinese man shrieking, a pain in his shoulder and a Russian curses.

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_A/N: So yeah, I didn't feel complete with the first chapter. So I'll clear some things up because I couldn't include everything in for some reason. So the reason why they couldn't kill them was because that (a) Alfred is physically really, really strong. In the story, Harrison is almost invisible. He kind of had a God-complex. I never thought he really died. I thought he just protected his partner. He was put in the prison and escaped with the help of Prussia and Spain. Francis came to his senses ad he saw his friends on screen and yes, Arthur did get shot by Russia. Russia escaped the studio and came to Arthur's house because naturally, that's where Alfred is gonna be. Another important thing is that the dance was prerecorded by an hour. They managed to put it on air. So yeah, sorry about that. Thinking if I should do a third chapter. Have no idea where I'm going with this. Sorry -_-; Anyways, love you all! Leave me some love 3_

_-Italian Nightmare  
_


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